S1, E6 | Rival Factions

Emerging from the stratum, Nolo’s Porsche rolls down the exit ramp with a depressing lack of speed, the driver’s spirits seemingly just as low as the vehicle’s drive would imply. Exiting their vehicles, Ross and Eric join their fellow group mates in placing their feet upon solid ground whilst their collective attention centres upon the Kaiyo driver. Hiding their disappointment as best as they can, Vert and Talia step away from their parked vehicles and approach their now-stopped leader.

“You gave them one hell of a race, Nolo” Vert remarks, watching the driver remove his helmet and discard it into the passenger’s seat before sinking into his leather interior. “It wasn’t good enough” the Kaiyo leader replies, tilting his head back until his face takes toward the distant ceiling above, dejected and conquered despite being the only racer to actually see the stratum through to its end.

“No, it was good enough” Vert rebukes, watching as Harland and Taro’s vehicles casually roll by on their way back into the garage area, windows raised and wheels turning without the drivers themselves having any words to offer. “You drove perfectly. You did everything right and the only reason you weren’t the first to the portal was because of those damn robot cars” the squad’s youngest racer clarifies, “you earned that win.”

“If I’d earned that win, I would’ve-” Nolo begins to reply, looking off to the side for a brief moment before leaping into action, cutting himself off by burning rubber along the cement ground. Breaking out from his parked place near the ramp’s reconnection with the second level, the group leader speeds into the open floor at the first glimpse of the aggravation-causing driver who’d opened up the track for him to take sole ridership of, cutting his Firebird off from moving any further.

“Get out of my way, Kaiyo!” Mark exclaims, letting his left arm hang through the open driver’s side window as his foot hits the brake. “WAYLAND!” Caesar exclaims from the platform above, the echo of his voice resonating throughout the entire building in such a way that it proves impossible for any driver to ignore. “Ah great, here we go” the youngest Wayland sibling replies, throwing his car into park before climbing through the door, stepping into the centre of attention.

Gradually closing further in on the scene with their vehicles left behind, the DSRC and Esteemed drivers draw nearer to the wraparound sunglass-wearing Wayland sibling, watching as the second level’s creator descends the nearest set of stairs. Lagging behind just slightly, Kurt begins following the lead of the scientist he’d spent the stratum’s duration alongside, reading the track he’d been refused the ability to drive upon from a spectator’s view.

“What the hell are you trying to accomplish?” Caesar bitterly questions aloud, approaching the much younger racer from the distance, not waiting for it to be cut shorter before speaking. “It’s one thing to have an issue with your own family- a simple sibling rivalry- and then it’s an entirely different thing to compromise his car and keep him from racing all together!” the scientist continues to bark, his scathing remarks failing to hit home with the younger brother.

“I need the best drivers inside each and every single stratum that this energy opens! I will not tolerate drivers who will prove to be a liability more than anything else” Caesar continues, his uninterrupted scolding of the man beginning to sit poorly with the younger sibling, “I have half of a mind to send you back to that shithole in Maryland just to make sure you don’t screw anything else up!”

“You won’t” Mark immediately replies, his claim effortlessly questioned by the source of his castigation. “Why would that be?” Caesar challenges as the distance between them vanishes, their bodies no more than a few feet apart from each other’s. “Like you said- you need the best drivers” the younger sibling replies, looking past the scientist’s head to find his brother finally reaching ground level once more, “and I’m the best driver.”

“From what I’ve seen, the best driver in this building just so happens to be the only driver who completed both stratums thus far” Caesar bites back, refusing to argue on merit and instead looking to provoke the Crew member’s bravado. “Kaiyo drivers aren’t worth the gasoline they fill their cars with” Mark retorts, taking one step closer to the superior who dares him with expulsion from the competition, “The Crew is the best group you’ve got and I’m the best driver they’ve got!”

“Is that so?” Taro questions back, earning the attention of those in attendance as he and the Crew’s leader round the nearest corner, just beginning to overhear the conversation that unfolds as the claim is made. Not offering a response at first, Mark turns back whilst Caesar looks on at the approaching members of the driver’s squad whilst excusing his voice from the apparent altercation that he fears is about the unfold.

“I told you to fall back in line, Wayland” Harland remarks, stepping past his group’s co-founder once the man comes to a stop a few feet away from the three Kaiyo drivers. “And I told you the same thing” Mark replies, a conclusion that- whilst knowingly true in the eyes of the squad’s leader- doesn’t matter in his eyes. “I’m the Crew’s leader” the darker-skinned racer retorts, coming to a stop just as many feet from the younger Wayland sibling as Caesar stands.

“You’re a member of the Crew” Harland continues, running down the situation as if it were in the form of bullet points, “members of the Crew are meant to follow their leader’s orders to a tee.” Placing his hands upon his hips, Mark lowers his head toward the ground as his thoughts are kept to himself, allowed to simmer internally whilst the group’s shot-caller continues to speak.

“The next time you try and override my decisions, you better be damn sure that whatever call you’re making is the right one” Harland warns, watching the subordinate’s sunglasses lift toward his direction, “because the call you made back there wasn’t the right one.”

“It would’ve been the right one had that pampered dipshit in the back not tried to get into a dick measuring contest with me” Mark quips, pointing his finger toward the onlooking members of the Esteemed, all of whom take equal offence to the claim made. “It’s my fault!?” Ross shouts aloud, pulling his hands toward himself as if to imply he could possibly be mistaken in this conclusion, “I’m not guilty of a goddamned thing, buddy! How about you go fuck yourself!?”

“How about you make me, country club!” Mark shouts ahead, stomping forward with the intent of breaking out into a fight before Harland’s hand pushes him back, holding him at bay whilst Taro adjusts his posture, ready to back up his group’s leader in the event it’s necessary. “That’s enough!” Caesar shouts aloud, refusing to let the scene unfold any further than it already has, his patience wavering and displeasure at the stench of losing having left him in a less-than-affable mood.

“Mark, your discretions cost five drivers an opportunity at completing the stratum” the scientist proclaims, continuing on with his earlier reprimanding from before, “had it not been for you- or rather, your inability to survey the situation for the most-efficient course of action- the corporation may not have been able to cost Nolo that victory as easily as they had.”

“If Nolo couldn’t win the race himself, that’s on Nolo” Mark rebukes, defending himself before the subject he speaks of answers for the claim wagered. “I’m willing to accept that I didn’t do enough to win that race, Wayland. But make no mistake about it...” Nolo proceeds, stepping through the lower-ranking members of his group before occupying the space ahead of them, “...if you ever get in the way of me or my Kaiyo drivers- you’re not gonna get away with it.”

Grimacing in the man’s direction, Mark takes the comment as the threat it was meant to be used as before turning away, offering his scowl to the Kaiyo leader before heading back for his vehicle. “Keep a real close eye on your ride, brother” Kurt warns, prompting his younger sibling to pause before following through on reclaiming his seat behind the Firebird’s wheel, “I’m not above taking an eye for an eye.”

Refusing to pay the second threat any more of a reply than he’d given Nolo, Mark lowers himself into his seat and slams his door shut, putting the car into drive before rounding the front of the Kaiyo vehicle stopped in front of him. Skidding along the ground, the Crew driver’s back tires leave the faintest sight of smoke in the rubber that they burn as the Firebird heads back for the garage, watched on by the fifteen drivers that had surrounded the scene and the scientist who’d triggered it.

= Driveline is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards =

Frustrated, Vert slams the hood to his NSX shut and wipes his grease-covered palms off on a relatively-clean rag, paying little mind to the goings-on of the other racers. Dragging the soles of his shoes along the ground, the youngest Kaiyo driver drops his dirty towel off on a nearby workbench before propping open the hood to his toolbox, intending to rummage through the objects within before his attention is called for by the visitor that approaches.

“Nolo put up a good fight in there” Taro remarks, walking with his hands hanging by each side as he stands at the Kaiyo garage’s front, his voice latching onto the ear of the man whose car occupies it. “Yeah, he did” Vert replies, nodding in agreement before wrapping his fingers around the closest wrench to himself, “it’s a shame how it ended though.”

“The way the whole stratum ended was a shame” Taro confesses, crossing his arms as he stares at the NSX’s reflective hood, “barely any of us could even make it to the end.” Lifting his eyebrows, Vert pulls open the car’s door and twists the key in the ignition as the conversation pauses for a moment, listening to his engine refuse to start as planned.

“Yeah, that’s definitely true” the Kaiyo driver responds, nodding in agreement as he steps out of his car and walks over toward the creeper that he’d leant against the wall near the workshop’s corner, “at least we know who to blame for that being the case.” Bowing his head just slightly, Taro takes pity on such a truth being shared whilst his acquaintance lowers the wheeled bed toward the ground and takes a seat upon it, prepared to dive into the vehicle’s underbelly.

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’m here” Taro replies, recognising the odd aura to their conversation as the younger driver slides beneath the NSX’s hood and goes to work, “I know Wayland’s not going to come over and offer one, so I’m taking on the responsibility of doing so myself.” Providing a faint and unnoticed shrug to the racer above him, Vert stays quiet and allows his childhood pal the freedom to say whatever it was he’d come over to.

“Nolo wasn’t the only Kaiyo racer that was meeting their expectations in there. You were ripping up track just as well as anyone else was” Taro confesses, not taking displeasure in such a fact, but the result in which it was met with draws his ire, “Harland and I weren’t the only people in there that Wayland screwed over.”

“No, you were not” Vert replies, pressing his teeth together as he takes the wrench to a set of bolts beneath the car, gently grunting with each twist that the tool takes to free the winding pieces. “I know he was aiming for Nolo, but Wayland ran you off the track and kept you from seeing that thing through to the end” Taro explains, arms still crossed and eyes glued to the lower half of the driver that protrudes from beneath the lifted NSX, “I wanted to come over and apologise for that.”

Letting free a sigh as he frees the third of four bolts, Vert pauses his efforts for a moment before speaking up, continuing the discourse from beneath the hefty metal shell. “Then why isn’t he coming over to apologise?” the younger driver questions aloud, lifting his arm once more to undo the final bolt keeping him from finishing the task he’d set out for himself.

“If I’m putting money on it, I’m sure Wayland wouldn’t be too keen on coming over here to apologise on account of the fact that he’s probably not sorry” Taro replies, hanging his head just slightly at the admission. “I’m not even sure that Harland is sorry about it either, so I’m not even here offering an apology on the Crew’s behalf” the squad’s co-founder concedes, finishing his thought as the preoccupied racer finishes his first task, “I’m mainly here because I’m sorry about it.”

Again letting out a sigh as he slides out from beneath the car, Vert sits upright once more and plants the soles of his shoes against the ground again, eyes lifted toward the man paying him the concession. “What’s Mark’s problem, man?” the Kaiyo driver finally asks aloud, shaking his head whilst holding out hope for a more informed answer than any guess he can bring himself to make assumptions over, “I know he hates Kurt and everything, but I don’t see why he’s just such an asshole.”

“Wayland’s just not the kind of guy that takes orders very well” Taro replies, not wasting much time in offering whatever clarity he can manage to provide. “He’s got a problem with authority, he’s got a problem with his brother, and he’s got a problem with people that aren’t him” the Crew’s co-founder admits, having come to such a conclusion many years prior, “the only reason he even sticks with us is because we’ve always been the arch nemesis of the group his brother rolls with.”

“No, he’s only with you because we wouldn’t take him” Kurt interjects, stepping out from the garage next door whilst wiping off his hands, bare arms hanging along the sides of the muscle shirt his jacket normally conceals. “Actually, you wouldn’t take him” Vert corrects, watching his superior turn back to face him upon the vocalised amendment, “the rest of us didn’t have much of an issue with him at the time.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that Mark’s only with the Crew because he couldn’t get into Kaiyo” Kurt replies, turning his attention back toward the aforementioned group’s co-founder as he concludes, “and the only reason he ran to you was because his brother stood in the way of any other outcome.”

“Whether you’re right or wrong, that doesn’t change the fact that Wayland’s one with the Crew now” Taro responds, adjusting his posture to face the interrupting third member of the discourse he hadn’t approached, “we may not always see eye-to-eye with him, but he’s one of us.” Nodding, Kurt agrees with the sentiment and uses it to lend his point further credence, the confrontational attitude he’d entered the conversation with refusing to subside.

“Yeah, you’re right. Mark’s just as much a member of the Crew as I am of Kaiyo. What that means is that the problem between he and I is a problem between Kaiyo and the Crew” Kurt proclaims, stepping between the rival squad’s co-founder and the youngest member of his own team, “so with that, I’d step off of Kaiyo territory and run back to your buddies before you have to take a beating on their behalf too.”

“Kurt!” Vert calls out, stepping off the board before being able to say anything further, both he and his superior watching as the Crew’s co-founder lifts his hands in a show of surrender. “Alright, then” Taro replies, conceding ground to the man in the name of keeping their differences from escalating into anything further than matters worth settling behind the wheel, turning his back to the rival squad’s garage before retreating to his own team’s clubhouse.

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“Where’d you come up with that idea anyway?” Eric questions aloud, splitting a rolled joint with the tasteful driver who’d handed the spliff over to him, “you were coming at me in one second, and then you were gone in the next and the latino guy was flying above like he was an aeroplane.” Amused, Talia leans back the stack of two tires that she sits atop whilst the man beside her leans against a mountain of others, the rubber columns discarded just like the wheels beneath her.

“Kaiyo has sign language that we don’t share with anybody” Talia replies, appreciatively reclaiming possession of the lit, pot-filled cigarette for a hit of her own, “he didn’t know I was going to angel-out, but I didn’t need to say anything for him to know to draft behind me.” Nodding, Eric stares toward the building’s ceiling as he ponders the strategy and takes intrigue in it, finding the way other squads operate more fascinating than he otherwise would’ve anticipated.

“What the hell is this?” Ross calls out, exiting the building that hosts each squad’s clubhouse to find his own teammate intermingling with the enemy. “Hey Ross” Eric replies, reclaiming possession of the dart that the woman beside him offers back, taking a hit as the approaching man closes in.

“What the hell are you doing here, E-man?” Ross questions, his hands held out by each side as his friend’s lips pull away from the lit wrapper. “Just hanging out” Eric responds, not seeing an issue that his teammate appears to be uber-focused upon. “Just hanging out, huh?” the irritated Esteemed driver repeats, drawing close enough to his friend to snatch the dart away from his hand, knocking it on the ground before digging the tip of his running shoe against its lit end.

“What the hell, man!? What’ve you got against the joint!?” Eric wonders aloud, throwing his arms out at each side whilst his Kaiyo acquaintance lowers the headphones from her ears. “I’ve got nothing against the joint, I’ve got everything against her!” Ross retorts, pointing his finger toward the still-seated Talia as she watches on, close enough to hear the discourse without much issue, “she’s Kaiyo, man! What the hell are you doing sleeping with the enemy!?”

“I’m not sleeping with her! We’re just friends!” Eric replies, only to watch as the explanation proves less than enough to convince his teammate to lower his guard. “Friends!? Tell me you’re not that stupid!” Ross retorts, his angered visage only intensifying the longer that he’s forced to explain himself, “you can’t be friends with one of the other racers, you idiot! We’re not like the rest of them!”

“You’re right...” Talia replies, speaking to a non-Kaiyo driver other than Eric for the first time, the words that she pays not coming from a friendly place of mind, “...we’re much easier to tolerate than some of you rich kids.”

“I am twenty two years old, madam! I am not a kid!” Ross angrily shouts back, again aiming his finger in the woman’s direction before taking Eric by the shoulder and shoving him the way in which he’d come from. “Come on, E-man! We’re going back to the clubhouse and we’re not speaking a word of this to Alec and Lana!” the Esteemed driver proclaims, directing his teammate away from the Kaiyo driver as if he were a disappointed parent removing their child from a bad situation.

Left on her own, Talia scowls at the less-than-pleasant Esteemed driver before reclaiming the joint that had been crushed beneath the man’s boot, angrily re-lighting it for whatever hits can still be taken. Satisfied with her ability to resurrect the spliff, the M-Coupe driver follows the lead that Ross had taken in retreating from the scene, opting instead to head back for her car whilst returning the headphones to her ears, drowning out the scene and trying to move on as best as she can.

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“You wanted to see me?” Nolo inquires, his knuckles having tapped against the outside of the door he’d been told to approach. “Yes, please come in” Caesar replies, occupying the front of the conference room just as he does during most meetings. “Am I in trouble or something?” the Kaiyo leader queries, not approaching as quickly as he would if offered more reasoning when asked to appear before the scientist.

“No, you’re not. If anything- quite the opposite” Caesar answers, continuing to stand at the front of the room whilst gesturing for the seats that the Kaiyo drivers normally take for themselves, something that the squad’s leader picks up on. “I want to commend you for your performance in the Swamp Stratum ahead of tomorrow morning’s meeting” the scientist confesses, starting off the conversation on a positive note, “I’d certainly hope the way the race ended won’t lower your confidence.”

“I had the race won” Nolo quickly responds, pulling out the seat that- at this rate- might as well have his name engraved upon it, “I keep going over the end in my head time after time. I should’ve used the jets under my car or hit the booster when I saw the thing falling.”

“Had you raced into the explosion head-on, you might not be standing here to tell the tale” Caesar corrects, refusing to allow the talented driver the opportunity to blame himself anymore than he’s worthy of, “if anyone should be to blame- it’s me. I should’ve anticipated that the corporation would have some way of getting a leg up on the competition.”

“Yeah, what’s up with this corporation thing? I know you said a little bit earlier, but I still don’t fully get it” Nolo confesses, folding his hands atop the table whilst trying to get comfortable in a room that only he and the scientist occupy, “Kurt told me they tried to launch an attack on the biker guys in there. Why are they after us?”

“Because you’re standing in their way” Caesar answers, departing from the screen that occupies the wall in the front of the room in favour of taking ownership over the chair he would normally reside in. “The belief I’ve come to is that- at the end of each of these stratums- there’s supposed to be something bigger” the scientist proceeds, spilling his guts on the conclusions he’s attempting to bring himself toward making, “whatever that something is- you’re obstacles to them.”

“I’m pretty sure I get that part, but I’m more asking about who they are” Nolo corrects, the expression he wears making it clear that he’s not too certain what to make of them, “what is this corporation?”

Pressing his lips together, Caesar looks away as he first considers how to answer, not wanting to say more than he has to. “The Flat Devil Corporation is the internal name given to a group of insanely wealthy businessmen that have more money than they know what to do with” the man admits, looking back to the racer that sits across from him, “they funnel money into their own projects separately, but when they want to do business away from the public eyes, they use the ‘Flat Devil’ identity.”

“So they’re a bunch of rich clowns sending robot cars into the stratums, I already gathered that” Nolo replies, kept from continuing on once the scientist’s hand raises to halt him. “No, they’re the one percent of the one percent. They don’t just do things that they don’t want people to know about, they scrub any mention of anything that has to do with it” Caesar confesses, “nuclear tests, government influences, scientific advancements that they don’t want getting out... that’s Flat Devil.”

“Isn’t that like the Illuminati?” Nolo curiously wonders aloud, watching the scientist’s face lighten with humour. “Flat Devil is essentially what people think the Illuminati is if that helps you understand it better” Caesar replies, nodding along with the conclusion before explaining further, “if there’s a cure for cancer, they keep it quiet so they can milk every last dollar from the pharmaceutical industry. If there’s a politician going rogue from their grand plans, they take care of them.”

“Then why are they in these stratums?” Nolo responds, paying little mind to the claims made in search of getting to the bottom of the question that lingers on his mind. “I have no idea but I’m sure that there's a massive reason behind it” Caesar confesses, planting the sides of his hands against the wooden table’s surface. “Think about it, Nolo. These stratums are otherworldly. They defy the concept of everything we’ve ever considered natural” he pleads, “few people even know they exist.”

“And why do you know they exist?” the Kaiyo driver challenges, only asking the question once it finds its way to the front of his mind, receiving a response much faster than he’d anticipated it to come. 

“Because I’ve spent every waking moment of my life for the last thirty five years digging, and digging, and digging some more into the rift that I knew was there” Caesar concedes, being upfront and honest with the man in his reply, “and when I discovered this, I knew that I couldn’t let the corporation exploit it.”

“And that’s what they’re doing in the stratums? They’re exploiting them?” Nolo interjects, wanting answers that continue to be offered faster than he’d expected them to be. “I’m not sure they have yet but I am not incredibly high on waiting to find out” Caesar replies, holding an intense stare into the Kaiyo driver’s eyes as he forms his conclusion, “every race that they go into will better teach their artificial intelligence for whatever comes at the end just like it’ll teach you drivers.”

Pulling back in his chair just slightly, Nolo reads the scientist’s stare quietly as the room goes silent, it's only subject being the pause that is shared between its inhabitants before the second level’s founder speaks once more. “I’m having my assistants put together recon machines that will accompany you into each stratum. What I hope they’ll offer is a way to see things like what the corporation pulled in the last race ahead of time” Caesar concludes, leaning further in his chair.

“The only things I need from you and the other drivers are results” the scientist concludes, extending the olive branch of support that had yet to truly be established between himself and the racers. “I and my assistants will do everything to make sure that you have the absolute best chance of leaving each stratum with a win under your belts, but the onus is on you to see each race through to the end” Caesar declares, his point made as clear as it can be, “can I count on you for that?”

Left in the position of answering the question himself instead of asking them, Nolo is faced with coming up with a reply fitting the mindset of himself and the squad that he leads- a task he knows to be tall. “Yes, you can” the Kaiyo leader replies, as confident in his response as Caesar is in believing it, the scientist’s back pressing into the back of the seat that he leans against, eyes holding steadily upon his driver as the conclusion settles with him ahead of the next stratum.

== Driveline ==